"You took Yurin. You hurt him. What did he ever do to you? What the fuck does Yurin have to do with any of this!?"
Zen paused, then let out a dark chuckle. The aristocratic facade melted, revealing the twisted depravity beneath. He leaned down, whispering into Ren's ear, his voice a glacial rasp.
"Yurin? Hah. He has nothing to do with it. He just had the miserable luck of being your only weakness. Crushing what you love to pieces with my bare hands... is far more entertaining than simply putting a bullet in your head."
Zen used the spine of the blade to tilt Ren's chin up. His eyes danced with sick amusement, like a sadistic child admiring his favorite broken toy.
"As for why I despise you so much... Ah... your memory really is pathetic, Ren." Zen tilted his head, flashing a broad, chilling smile.
"We have met before... a very, very long time ago. So long ago that you forgot exactly what you did. But that's fine. Because I remember every second."
